Halfway Gone
by bulletproofweeks
Summary: Someone on the Enterprise is trying to kill Jim Kirk. Will Spock be able to save him? And how does this lead to Jim and Spock getting trapped in an alternate dimension? Kirk/Spock Slash, K/S, Hurt!Jim, Hurt!Spock
1. Just My Luck

Halfway Gone

This is my first leap into writing for the Star Trek fandom. I have been reading K/S stories for months now and now I've finally convinced myself to start writing fanfiction again. I hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 1: Just My Luck

_The Bridge of the Enterprise_

I tap my fingers idly on the arm of my chair while everyone around me pretends to be diligently immersed in there work, besides Spock, of course, who is literally enthralled in his latest science project.

I feel strangely irritated, half-anticipating a sudden attack if only to break the monotony of life on the Enterprise. One could say that the beautiful, well-equipped starship had met a lull in its eventful journey. Nothing and I mean absolutely nothing had happened in almost three weeks!

I'm faintly disturbed by my silent wish for adventure because I know that most every mission thus far has resulted in a threat to my crew. I should probably be rejoicing at the idea of a break… but instead I feel unfulfilled. After all, the Enterprise is meant to "explore strange new worlds" and "seek out new life and new civilizations." We haven't done much of that lately.

Additionally, the whole "I'm bored out of my mind" thing leaves my imagination open to other, less than professional uses of my time.

Like staring at my first officer.

Speaking of which, Spock's lithe fingers halt on his console, as if sensing my gaze. I quickly divert my eyes, swearing profusely in my mind. _Dammit, Jim. He'll figure you out soon if you're not careful._

I'm not entirely sure when Spock became the highlight of my day, but I'm fairly sure I won't be getting over him anytime soon. He's simply… fascinating. As a man who always seeks excitement, (you know, by driving antique cars off cliffs or by starting bar fights with men nicknamed "Cupcake") Spock is a perfect distraction. The Vulcan is a covert vault of endless mystery, emotional turmoil, and has a depth of character that seems to seep out oh so seamlessly in the slight twitch of his lips or his casually raised eyebrow.

To be honest, this crush runs a little too deep for my comfort level and thus it must be avoided like the plague until I can find a cure… a cure that doesn't endanger our already tentative friendship.

I bend my elbow and rest my cheek on my palm, forcing my eyes to stare straight ahead into the deep void of space accentuated by streaks of white stars extending as far as the eye can see. It's beautiful. Then again, so is Spock.

And there goes what little concentration I have as my eyes trail back to the silky black hair and thin frame of my favorite distraction. I really wish I could see his dark eyes right now.

Suddenly, my desire is granted as Spock turns in his chair and meets my eyes curiously. I freeze, my blood turning to ice in my veins.

He noticed.

"Captain?" I can't break eye contact, my gaze paralyzed with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Suddenly Spock's dark eyes flick downward. I follow his gaze to the blinking light on my armrest. _Why do you have to look so incompetent around him?_ I think to myself. I quickly shake my head to clear away all my fanciful daydreams and quickly press the receiver so I can answer the communication.

"Kirk here."

"Captain Kirk, Scotty requests your presence in engine room 2." I don't recognize the ensign relaying the message, but then again, it's relatively unimportant as long as the message gets through. I still feel a little disappointed though because I like to think I know every member of this crew at least by name.

"Is there a problem?" I ask curiously.

"Unknown, sir. I was simply ordered to request your assistance." I pause, finding the request rather odd. First, Scotty normally sends all his communications himself. Second, Scotty is infinitely more specific, usually attempting to tell me every little detail of whatever he is working on. He's similar to Spock in that respect. Third, Scotty very rarely calls me down just to help him with an unknown project. Sure, if he recruits me when I'm down in engineering, that's one thing, but he never requests that I leave the bridge in order to assist him.

"Unusual." I comment quietly. I see Spock raise his eyebrow out of the corner of my eye. I have no idea how I can focus on Scotty's message while still managing to stare at Spock through my peripheral vision. This fascination is starting to get out of hand. "Acknowledged, ensign." I finish before standing up and making my way to the turbo lift. "Spock, you have the conn," I order, trying my best not to make eye contact with my first officer as he moves gracefully towards the Captain's chair.

Yup, I definitely have to do something about this.

~ // ~

_Engine Room 2 on the Enterprise_

I enter the engine room with a newfound resolve in my every step. I've finally made a decision about my Spock problem.

I'm going to talk to him.

Revolutionary, right?

But see, I have an actual plan. I'm going to broach the subject ever so subtly (maybe throw in some human idioms to confuse the Vulcan a little) and then somehow ascertain what Spock thinks of me. Sure, the plan's not exactly foolproof or fully constructed by any means, but it's a start.

And that's when I notice the sudden absence of motion. "Hello?" It's really unsettling when the echo of my voice is the only sound that returns to me. "Scotty?" Just as I suspected, I'm alone.

My first instinct is to be mad that Scotty tricked me into coming down here for no apparent reason. This instinct quickly morphs into anxiety when I notice a light beginning to flash on the nearest console.

"Scotty?" I call out hopefully, a foreboding feeling settling into my gut. Something is definitely not right here.

And like clockwork, the computer confirms my fears.

"WARNING. Reactor malfunction." I pause, my face paling in shock.

"That doesn't sound good," I remark as an array of warning lights accompanied by a whining siren bring the room to life. It takes me a brief moment to process what is happening before I rush to the console and attempt to override whatever error has been set in the programming.

"Command input disabled," the computer explains. That is the last thing I want to hear. "Implosion imminent. Evacuate all personnel in the area and proceed until a safe distance has been reached." No, actually _that_ is the last thing I want to hear.

"Shit," I curse angrily and slam my hand on the top of the console when I realize that whatever programming has corrupted the reactor has been rerouted and cannot be accessed from within this room.

_Just my luck,_ I think to myself; although, I know that this situation has nothing to do with me being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone wants me to be here.

My heart is racing as adrenaline rushes through every fiber of my being. Thankfully, my mind jumps into captain mode as the glass wall encasing the reactor begins to shake violently.

I accept that I cannot stop the inevitable explosion and decide that I will have to settle for running for it and evacuating the rest of the hall.

I race towards the doors, but find that they don't open for me.

"What the-?" I utter bemusedly. "Computer! Open the door."

"Doors sealed to contain explosion." My eyes widen perceptibly.

"No! I'm in here! Open the door." I demand, but the order falls on deft ears.

I then try to override the doors instead. I have a Captain's override code for a reason. I move to the keypad and type in the code as fast as my fingers will allow. All the while, the warning sirens seem to get even louder.

"This code is not recognized."

"Like hell it isn't! Open the door now!" I order. The computer ignores me. I finally decide that my next action should be to call for help. "The captain is in here! Help!" I yell as I pound my fist against the door, hoping the sound will alert someone in the hall… but no one comes. The hall has probably already been evacuated. I then try to pry the doors open with my fingers, but quickly find I am not strong enough.

"Shit, shit, shit." I mutter as I turn my back to the door and search the room for any means of escape. That's when my blue eyes fall on the COM pad. "Com," I comment hopefully, inwardly curious as to why I hadn't thought of it before. I dash towards the console in hopes of calling Spock for help.

I press down the button. "Spock, help-"

The computer's informative voice cuts me off.

"Communications are inoperable, Captain." I can't help my childish reflex as I violently kick the console to release my frustration. Someone did a really good job of trapping me in here and I walked right into it!

"WARNING. Evacuate all personnel in the area."

"Spock! Scotty! Somebody!" I yell as loud as physically possible, my voice echoing around me and barely heard above the siren.

That's when it hits me that I am probably going to die here… in the engine room of my own ship!

It's unacceptable. I'm a Captain for only six months before my own ship turns on me.

I scan the edges of the room for any vents, even though I know the concentrated radiation from the reactor will kill me anyways. I'm not going to go down without a fight. With that in mind, my gaze falls on exactly what I'm looking for. There's a vent… the only problem is it's on the ceiling.

I take a deep calming breath before searching the room for some means of getting up there. Unfortunately I don't have a chance to enact my plan as a tremor erupts through the room. The glass shielding the reactor shatters beside me and one of the tall power turbines shakes and suddenly comes tumbling down… on me.

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The more reviews, the greater the muse, the faster the updates. It's just a fact of life. :)


	2. Illogical Premonitions

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Y'all are awesome so I decided to post an update sooner than I originally anticipated.

For the record, I am not even going to attempt Scotty's accent. I can't speak with an accent in real life and I definitely can't write one. :)

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Chapter 2: An Illogical Premonition

_The Bridge of the Enterprise_

_It is uniformly, undeniably illogical, _I tell myself repeatedly, yet the words refuse to have the desired effect on my psyche.

Besides the blatant fact that it is illogical, I cannot stand to reason why I am… worried.

It is a human emotion and one that I have never harbored before. Perhaps I felt it when my parents were on Vulcan during the planet's imminent destruction. I distinctly remember being worried for their safety. Yet the feeling then had been tempered by adrenaline and overshadowed by the logic that, yes, my parents were in danger of losing their lives.

Reality proved that.

I shake my head ever so slightly to push the image of my mother far from my thoughts. It is unusual that six months after her death, I am still emotionally vulnerable at the mere thought of her. It is even stranger that I have not informed anyone of this attachment, especially my Captain since such an emotional reaction could have a plausible effect on my duties as first officer. Fortunately, most of the Enterprise crew tends to avoid any conversations about the destruction of Vulcan… at least in my presence. My sensitive ears have picked up the topic on numerous occasions.

I am aware that my human side is the source of such foreboding intuition. It is one of the many characteristics that make humans fascinating. At times I wonder whether they too have a sixth sense of sorts. I have heard Jim refer to having a "gut feeling" before a mission, but I have never understood that sentiment until now. The unsettling part of this knowledge is that Jim's premonitions are, more often than not, correct.

The light illuminates on my armrest. I press the button, but before I can speak, Scotty's rushed voice erupts from the receiver.

"Captain, I am receiving some erratic readings from engine room 2. Did you authorize any activity in that area?" My unease clutches at my stomach even tighter. Now I truly understand what Jim means by a gut feeling. I can feel my eyebrows faintly tilt downward to express my innate confusion. Meanwhile the rest of the bridge crew turns to take heed of the conversation.

"I fail to comprehend your meaning, Mr. Scott. The Captain left 10.2 minutes ago to assist you in engine room 2. Is he not with you?" I ask, my voice revealing nothing of what is going on within me.

There is a pause in our communication.

"What are you talking about? I never asked for Jim's help. I'm on the other side of the ship for god's sakes! I didn't-" I stand up from the Captain's chair, not needing to hear the rest of his statement. There is a fault in the sequence of events; one that signals to me that Jim is in trouble.

"What's wrong?" Uhura asks as I pass her to get to the turbo lift.

"Sir?" Sulu inquires curiously.

"Contact Dr. McCoy and have him meet me in engine room 2." I order, not sure what to expect when I get to engine room.

If I ran the rest of the way to that room, I would argue that it was in order to arrive in a timelier manner and not because I am subject to the growing fear that something has happened to the Captain.

_My _Captain.

~ // ~

I arrive at my destination in record time.

Red lights illuminate the empty hallway while a loud siren denotes that evacuation procedures are in full effect. I am unsure as to why the bridge was not informed of an evacuation. I quickly press the nearest COM button in order to alert the rest of the crew and the bridge, but the computer fails to make a connection.

"Communications are inoperable."

I tilt my head, aware that something is inherently wrong. I run down the hall until I am standing in front of the engine room.

The doors do not open.

I put in my override code, my fingers pushing the numbers with more force than is necessary.

"This code is not recognized," the computer objects.

"Captain?" I call out, staying calm as the siren bellows around me.

"Room is quarantined to contain explosion." The computer announces. The word "explosion" causes my heart to race. There is a 78.82% chance that Jim is in this room.

"Captain!" I yell, worry beginning to surface in the tone of my voice. I do not have time to focus on keeping my emotions buried. I place my fingers at the crack between the two doors. It may appear a desperate act, but it is imperative that I get into that room. I pull and the doors give quite easily to my Vulcan strength. I slip into the room, the doors locking into place behind me.

The room is just as loud as the hallway and I can feel my ears beginning to ache from the intense noise. The room is clouded by rubble with fallen equipment and broken glass littering the floor.

I know that this room will be engulfed in a radioactive explosion any moment now.

I know the chances of Jim being alive are minimal.

I know I will most probably die if I do not leave now.

However, I also know that if Jim is alive, he will most certainly die if I leave now.

Despite the odds, I find myself unable to leave, so instead I venture into the room while my mind tries to ward off the intense, painful buzzing in my ears.

"Jim?" I ask uncertainly as I step carefully over the fragments of turbines and shattered consoles.

"Maximum capacity will be surpassed in 5." The computer begins the countdown.

Suddenly I see a familiar color amongst the red lighting… Gold.

"Jim!" I remark hopefully. I dart forward and pick up the remains of a large turbine. I then push it aside, thereby revealing Jim, lying still on his side.

"4." I touch his shoulder and he turns to me, disoriented and clearly surprised to see me. At this point, I am kneeling beside him.

"Spock…" He says softly as he attempts to sit up.

"3." I know we will not make it. We cannot escape to a safe distance in three seconds even if we tried. I know we are going to die. Yet somehow, it is acceptable. At least we will not die alone. Somehow this human reasoning, though thoroughly illogical, is comforting in some way. I do not have time to analyze it anyways.

"2."

"Spock, it's gonna…" Jim realizes the end just as I have. He does not appear afraid, although I can tell he is from how his shoulder faintly trembles beneath my hand. It is understandable.

"1."

"Spock." Jim's voice is the last thing I hear before the room erupts around me with fire and blinding light. The blast forces me forward onto Jim, where his cool touch is a sharp contrast to the burning sensation alighting behind me.

Then I remember nothing.

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Would I really kill our favorite couple?

Sorry for the cliffhanger. It just sort of happened. I had no control over it...


	3. They're Dead

Thanks for the reviews! Here's a long chapter for your enjoyment. ;)

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Chapter 3: They're Dead

_Down the Hall from Engine Room 2_

Spock drags me down here without an explanation or even a patient and then expects me to wait around for an hour!

It would be unnerving if it weren't so damn weird. Spock may be a lot of things, but he's not one to ask for my assistance without actually needing it.

Now I'm stuck here at the end of a crowded hallway, pacing anxiously. Half the deck has been evacuated and quartered off and yet no one has bothered to tell the good doctor what is going on. You would think there would be injuries I need to attend to, but so far no one has called for me.

The other weird thing about this whole scenario is that I haven't seen Jim or Spock since getting down here.

Force fields have been put in place to block access to the hall and only those in orange, protective gear are granted entrance. I move towards the force field and approach a familiar yeoman who is standing by the wall with her arms crossed along her chest.

"Yeoman…?" I ask, my voice trailing off as I forget her name. It's on the tip of my tongue… it's so close… I almost have it but… damn.

"Sanders." She answers. The name doesn't ring any bells. "I assist Captain Kirk," she clarifies, recognizing my confusion. Jim keeps telling me I should study the crew roster and get to know everyone by name, but hell, I'm a doctor! As long as I can patch 'em up when they come into sickbay, I don't really need to know their names.

Then again, moments like these remind me that Jim sometimes has a point.

"Of course, Yeoman Sanders," I recover gracefully. The woman smiles slightly. She has bright, hazel eyes and dark, wavy hair that is pulled back into a professional ponytail. "Do you have any idea what's going on here?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate for information.

"I was hoping you would know, Dr. McCoy," she comments, shooting a worried glance down the hall. I sigh with frustration, not because of the yeoman, but because no one knows anything!

_What the hell is Jim up to? And where's Spock?_

"Engineer Martin told me something had happened down here so I decided to see for myself because I'm curious," Yeoman Sanders continues, if only to make idle conversation, "and of course, I'm off-duty right now." She adds hurriedly, obviously fearing for a moment that I would think she was shirking her duties. That's the problem with being the Captain's best friend, everyone thinks you're gonna rat 'em out.

I nod, not really listening to what she is saying. Instead my attention is focused on the activity down the hall.

Then another question occurs to me.

"Have you seen Jim?" I ask. The yeoman furrows her eyebrows confusedly.

"You mean the Captain?" She clarifies. I nod and wave my hand impatiently to signal for her to just answer the question. "I haven't seen him since early this morning at the beginning of alpha shift." She responds. I slump my shoulders. Everyone I've talked to so far has said the same thing.

"Typical," I mutter under my breath.

"Excuse me?" Yeoman Sanders asks uncertainly. She's starting to show signs of discomfort under my scrutiny. I guess I just have that effect on people.

"Jim can never sit still through a whole shift. I swear the man has ADD or something." I grunt, still frustrated by his unknown whereabouts.

The yeoman cracks a soft smile and I begin to wonder whether Jim would mind if Ms. Sanders helped out for a while in Sickbay. After all, we're understaffed as is and I reason that Jim is too independent-minded to have such a delightful yeoman running errands for him. Jim has Spock to give him reports and assist him, while I imagine Yeoman Sanders probably ends up sitting around with nothing to do. I think it's a reasonable proposition. Plus, it'd be nice to have a conversation with someone new for once.

Suddenly, I am reminded that alpha shift has just ended as some familiar voices reach my ears. I bid farewell to Yeoman Sanders before turning around to see Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu all heading towards me.

They all look concerned.

"Hey, McCoy," Sulu greets amiably. "Have you seen Kirk or Spock? They never returned to the bridge." He asks hurriedly, obviously eager to get some tangible answers. I can tell that he's being very careful about his word choices.

"Spock told me to meet him here, but when I got down here, the whole hallway was blocked. No one's been able to tell me anything." I answer bitterly while crossing my arms. All three of them look surprised by the news.

"Well does anyone know yet why the reactor exploded? We didn't get the news until about thirty minutes ago." Sulu furthers. I can feel my eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

"Thirty minutes ago? I've been waiting around here for more than an hour now and no one's been able to tell me anything. Why wasn't the bridge informed?" I ask, surprised by the lapse in communication. Surely, the bridge would have been the first to be informed of a crisis. A reactor explosion is not exactly something that can be easily overlooked.

"According to Scotty, the communication systems are down in this region of the ship. The maintenance staff has yet to find the cause." Uhura answers. Then her eyes quickly cloud with perceptible concern. "Wait, but Spock came down here to find the Captain about an hour ago and if the explosion happened… I mean, if you haven't seen the Captain or Spock, then…" Her eyes glance fearfully down the hall. She doesn't need to finish her statement in order for us to understand her meaning.

Before our imaginations can get the best of us, I recognize one of the crewmembers in one of those orange suits as he heads towards me and back into the "safe area."

"Scotty!" Sulu remarks eagerly. Scotty moves through the barrier and comes up to us.

"What the hell happened?" I interject with my usual eloquence. "There better be a good reason for..." Scotty takes off his mask and I pause mid-sentence, taken back by his grim expression. I have _never_ seen Scotty ever so much as frown, let alone be on the verge of tears.

"W-what's happened?" I ask instead, not sure I want to hear his answer. I know this has something to do with Jim. It always has to do with Jim. Scotty takes a deep breath, brushes his hand along the back of his neck, and turns his gaze to his boots.

"The reactor… it-it exploded." He explains, nearly stuttering on every word. I'm not sure what to make of his statement. "I never got a message that anything was wrong, only that some equipment had collapsed. I never… I didn't know…" Scotty looks guilty, like he's beating himself up for doing something unspeakable. No one around me dares ask… but I _have _to know.

"What are you saying?" I question slowly. Scotty looks up with a thin coat of tears clouding his eyes.

"They're dead, Dr. McCoy."

~ // ~

_Engine Room 2_

The first sense of awareness I have is that I am surrounded by comfortable warmth. Unfortunately after another moment the numbness in my nerves begins to fade to reveal searing pain all over my skin.

The second sense I am reunited with is smell as the scent of blood rises around me. The smell causes me to gag, which then turns into an aching cough. I try to roll over onto my side, but I find that I can't.

This is when I finally regain my sense of sight. My blue eyes flutter open, but my vision is clouded by thick smoke. I shift uncomfortably until I can see the thing, or rather person, who is pinning me to the ground.

"S-spock?" I stutter fearfully. I push him to my side and gently place my fingers on his neck to try to feel for a pulse. I feel nothing, but then again I know next to nothing about Vulcan anatomy. In my current state of mind, I can't bear to think that my first officer could be dead because of me, so my mind shifts into Captain mode and buries this fear to be dealt with later.

What I do know is that his face, and most every visible part of his body, is spattered with both green and red blood. It takes me a long moment to realize that the red blood is from my own wounds. I look down at my torso and find that I'm covered in cuts of varying severity caused by both glass and fragmented metal. I turn my gaze back to Spock and note that his wounds are similar to mine. Surprisingly, they seem relatively minor or at least not too severe. That is until I notice a deep, bloody gash on his head just above his pointed ear. "Spock?" I lean down and shake him a little, but the man doesn't even stir.

It never occurs to me during this examination that I cannot hear. I can't even hear my own voice, but the resounding shock of being alive overcame this very basic perception. My ability to hear gradually returns and I can hear distant movement and quiet voices.

"Help," I manage to say, albeit in a voice that sounds pitiful even to my own ears. I see people moving through the smoke, but they don't appear to hear me. "Help!" I say louder. I look back at Spock and examine his head injury more closely. My fingers lightly slip down his face and along his jaw line. God only knows how long I've wanted to touch Spock like this, but I had definitely imagined it happening under very different circumstances.

I take a deep breath, warding of the pain shooting through my legs. I need to get help. "Spock, stay here. I'll come back." I promise before painfully getting to my feet. I stagger for a moment, but then balance myself using the wall. I look around me and notice that it was sheer luck that Spock and I weren't crushed.

I squint my eyes as I try to see through the misty haze of the room. My only thought is that Spock needs help _now_. I try to fight off the agonizing idea that perhaps Spock is already dead.

Suddenly, I can distinguish a figure nearby who is clad in an orange protective suit.

"We're over here!" I holler, but the man still doesn't hear me. He even looks in my direction but somehow misses my presence. Then he starts moving away from me and I feel anger rising in my chest.

"Where are you going? We're right here!" I yell as I stagger towards him. The man looks in my direction again. "Get Bones! Spock's bleeding!" I demand angrily, but the man doesn't move. Instead he simply looks down at his tricorder. "Did you not hear me? That's an order!" I yell as I reach out my hand to firmly grab his shoulder. Just as I should have made contact with his thick suit, I find myself falling forward as if slipping through air. I collapse on the floor and glance up at the man.

"What the hell?" I remark as I stare, horrified by the fact that my legs extend _through_ the man in front of me. I scuttle backwards and away from the ensign before gracelessly pulling myself to my feet. I look down at my hands and find that they look like they always do, except of course more bloody. I then return my gaze to the oblivious crewmember in front of me. I reach towards him again, but quickly recoil when my hands slips through him as if he doesn't exist at all. _Am I dead? Am I seeing things? Is this a dream? _It all feels so real: this room, the pain, and the blood."I can't touch you…" I comment to myself, rubbing my fingers together as if to prove to myself that I still exist.

The ensign then leaves me and disappears into the smoke. I suddenly realize that the smoke has no effect on me besides blocking my vision. I can breath as if the atmosphere is clear as day… and yet I can smell and taste the faintest tinge of blood.

The room suddenly starts to spin, probably caused by my sudden movements combined with my extensive blood loss. I fall backwards against a barely intact console, my hands clamping tightly onto the worn edge. Pain surges through my whole body and I grit my teeth and find myself inwardly begging for one of Bones' hypos. Just as quick as the pain took over, it recedes until it is back to a tolerable level. My focus, though still fairly disoriented, returns to my surroundings.

Suddenly I notice the sensation of one of my fingers brushing against a small metal object. I look down to see that the object is a screw. I pick it up, my mind slowly trying to process the sudden change of events. "But I can touch this." I tell myself quietly, as I look at the screw and then the console I'm leaning against.

This shit is getting way too weird for me… and I'm alone in all this. I look back in the direction of my unconscious First Officer.

"Spock?" I ask as I slip the screw into my pocket before quickly making my way back to him. I try to suppress another bout of vertigo as I kneel down beside him, just like he did with me before the explosion. "Spock, wake up." I urge as I shake him impatiently. I can feel panic starting to surface in my mind. I'm not sure I'll be able to figure this out without him. "Please, wake up, Spock!" Captain James T. Kirk _never_ begs, but right now I'm pleading and willing to promise anything in exchange for his life.

To my overwhelming relief, Spock shifts slightly, his eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids. _He's not dead!_ "Spock!" I announce emphatically, my hands still braced against his shoulders. He opens his eyes, his vision trained on the ceiling above us.

That's when it hits me that Spock may be just as oblivious to my presence as that ensign was. "Spock, please say you can see me?" I question hopefully. Spock's dark eyes turn towards me. "Please?" I further.

"Jim?" Spock asks, his face as close to shock as I've ever seen it before quickly shifting back into its neutral expression.

"You can see me!" I remark happily.

"Indeed." Spock replies simply. He then looks me over as if gauging my injuries. "We are alive?" He asks in an uncertain, quiet voice. He seems to struggle to speak and I'm taken back by how short and un-Spockish he sounds. "Where is Dr. McCoy?"

"They can't see us," I blurt out, not even considering how stupid the statement sounds. Spock tries to raise an eyebrow, but it comes across as more of a wince. Then I realize that it was more likely a painful wince being covered up by an attempted raised eyebrow. A wince for Spock must indicate a lot of pain, but then again, I have never truly seen the Vulcan injured before so I can't really tell. He still hasn't tried to sit up, which cannot be a good sign. My limited medical knowledge, (mostly derived from helping Bones study for tests back at the Academy) tells me that Spock needs to see a doctor as soon as possible. Head injuries are not to be underestimated. "Can you walk?" I ask tentatively, knowing that if he cannot, I will be forced to leave him again to get help. Spock sits up and I try to help by pulling him forward slightly.

"It appears that I must," he replies stoically. To my surprise, he pulls himself to his feet with relative ease. He then places his hand on my shoulder in order to steady himself before moving his other hand to lightly touch the gash above his ear. He winces again and pulls his hand away to examine the traces of green blood staining his fingers.

"You okay?" I ask anxiously. Spock pauses a moment to process my question.

"My head…" Spock replies simply, placing his fingers on his temple as if to ward off a headache. His gaze is unfocused and he doesn't look me in the eyes as he speaks. "I am not sure where else," he adds, his sentence not really expressing a complete thought.

I'm really starting to worry now.

I may not have known Spock for that long, but I've been through enough crises and missions gone awry to know that Spock is _always_ the levelheaded beacon of rational logic amidst chaos. Sure, we may not agree on everything… actually, we're at odds quite often, but he always stays calm and in control, even if the whole ship is on the brink of destruction (which happens more often than you'd think).

Our relationship has definitely changed dramatically since the Nero incident when he tried to kill me on the bridge (and nearly succeeded). We've come a long way in six months. Actually I spend most of my downtime with him now, playing chess and finishing reports. I even consider him one of my closest friends and more recently, my secret love interest…-uh, I mean, not love exactly, but you know something less nerve wrecking like a crush. Yeah, an innocent, temporary crush. _This really isn't the time to think about your feelings for your first officer, _my mind reminds me as my focus returns to the crisis at hand.

Romantic aspirations aside, we've come to trust each other to the fullest extent possible ever since the first time on the Narada when Spock trusted me to cover for him. He's saved my life so many times and vice-versa.

Spock tries to take a step, but stumbles and end ups leaning heavily on me with his fingernails digging into my shoulder. I grimace from the sudden pain, but refuse the instinct to drop him. Spock seems to notice this and lessens his grip slightly. "I cannot seem to focus," he confesses, finally making eye contact, if only for a moment.

"Maybe the radiation is clouding the room. If we leave, we might be able to get help," I reason as I try to lead Spock to where the door should be.

"Logical," Spock comments quietly, still keeping his sentences as short and simple as possible. I navigate through the thick smoke and lead Spock towards the faded light of the hallway. The door was blown apart in the blast so we can easily get through. As soon as we exit into the hallway, I have to cover my eyes until I can adjust to the blinding lights.

Then I hear a familiar voice that draws my blue eyes down the hall.

"They're dead, Dr. McCoy."

* * *

I love reviews! They make my day.


	4. Invincible

Chapter 4: Invincible

_Down the Hall from Engine Room 2_

"They're dead, Dr. McCoy."

"Bones!" I'm too overjoyed at the prospect of finding Bones that I hardly process what Scotty says. By this point, Spock is sagging greatly and doesn't seem able to support himself without me. With that in mind, I carefully lead Spock down the hall with him leaning heavily on my shoulder and with his arm draped across the back of my neck.

He seems really out of it, which I always thought was impossible for a Vulcan.

Just as I reach the force field I freeze in place, my mind halted by the transformation on Bones' face. His worry morphs seamlessly into shock and then transfigures into a mix of grief and disbelief.

"Who's dead?" Chekov asks innocently from behind him. I can feel my heart racing. No one has noticed me and my mind covertly knows the reason why. I just don't want to believe it.

"Dead?" I question, perplexed by the statement.

As if to confirm this innate knowledge, one of the crewmembers dressed in an orange suit suddenly comes up from behind Spock and me and… walks right through us and through the force field to the conversation in front of us. My eyes widen as the weight of reality crashes down me.

No one can see us.

I glance over at Spock to find his expression relatively unchanged as if he is concentrating really hard to comprehend what is going on around him. I'm not sure he even believes this is real right now. I'm pretty sure I don't. Suddenly I notice the color drain from his face, which is an incredible feat considering how pale the man is to begin with. I'm not sure whether it is from the blood loss or from finding out that we're ghosts. Either way, I can tell that his knees are threatening to buckle beneath him, so before that can happen I cautiously shift him towards the nearest wall where he releases me in favor of leaning on the wall.

My attention is pulled back to Bones as the man finally formulates a response.

"Oh my god… no." Bones comments quietly. Normally when given bad news, Bones is prone to anger, but this time, he just seems shocked. "No," he whispers, his gaze drifting down to the floor as if he can find some comfort there. I carefully move through the force field, unaffected by the shield. I glance back at Spock who is watching me curiously, his body nearly slipping onto the floor.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Uhura asks fearfully, her beautiful eyes begging either of them for answers. No one besides Bones seems to understand the gravity of what Scotty has said. It's as if the two senior officers are having an unspoken conversation merely with their crest-fallen expressions.

"Both of them?" Bones manages to ask, lifting his dark, misty gaze to focus on Scotty. Scotty nods and throws his hand up in morbid defeat.

"Spock tried to save him." Scotty explains and that's when I can't deny the truth any longer.

They think we're dead.

We might even be dead.

"I'm right here, Bones!" I exclaim as I move to stand right in front of my best friend, but I'm invisible to him. He looks through me like I'm a pane of glass.

"No…no, I don't believe it." Bones mutters, his anger beginning to surface, not only in his tone but also in the dangerous glint in his eyes. "I always thought… if they were going to die, it would be on some mission. They'd beam em' aboard and I'd haul em' off to sickbay." His voice is starting to break and I find that everyone in the hall is staring now, shocked by the truth spilling from Bone's lips. "Considering how many times I patched them up… I always thought…" I shake my head. I can't take this. I'm right here! "Not-not like this." He mutters, brushing his hand through his hair. "Not for no reason." He adds in the faintest whisper.

I'm breaking him apart and I can't stop it! I look back at Spock to find him watching me quietly, his eyes betraying an undertone of sadness. I can't remember feeling this scared and this frustrated all in one mixed, overpowering emotion. It hurts like hell.

Uhura and Sulu stare quietly, while Chekov continues to cling to the belief that I'm invincible.

"You mean dat da keptin… da commander… dey're dead?" He asks, his voice wavering in disbelief. That's when Bones' finally snaps.

"Yes, they're dead! Don't you get it?" He growls, his eyes brimming with fury. I can't believe this is happening.

"Dead?" I whisper incredulously, my mind still refusing to wrap around the word. "Bones, I'm not dead." I say with determined resolve. I then turn back to Spock again.

"Spock," I begin uncertainly, "am I dead?" Spock stares at me, clearly at a loss for an answer.

"I am not sure, Jim."

"I want to see their bodies," Bones demands suddenly.

"I think it's unwise-" Sulu breaks in, trying to put a hand on the doctor's shoulder. Bones quickly shrugs him off.

"I need to see it for myself!" He continues, determined to have proof.

"That's going to be a problem," says the man who had walked through Spock and me just moments ago. I believe his name is Ensign Keller. Everyone looks at him confusedly, including Scotty. "We can't find their bodies." He confesses, shirking away from their intense looks.

"What do you mean you 'can't find their bodies?'" Bones snaps, his tone verging on murderous.

"We found blood, but not much though." Ensign Keller explains nervously. "Human blood." He clarifies. I pause, wondering why they would only find my blood there. Then I remember bleeding after the turbine fell on me. They must not be able to see any of the blood that spilled after the explosion. "But there is no trace of their bodies." _Interesting._ _If we really were dead then surely they would be able to find our bodies. _This alights in me the faintest glimmer of hope.

"That's impossible," Scotty remarks.

"That means they might not be dead." Bones states, clearly heartened by the knowledge that we could still be alive. "Maybe they were beamed off the ship somehow." He theorizes.

"I'm right here in front of you!" I exclaim with frustration, absolutely hating being transparent.

"No. Our sensors would have noticed." Scotty reasons despondently. "They were in the room when the reactor exploded. There is no way they could have survived." He reminds everyone, his words honest and dismal.

"I never figured you for a pessimist, Scotty." I remark.

"Jim, they cannot hear you," Spock announces from behind me. I look back at him to find that he's sitting on the floor now with his jaw clenched to brace himself for some invisible pain. I solemnly turn back to Bones.

"I-I need to process this," Bones accepts listlessly, deciding it's best to be alone for a while. Bones turns to leave.

"Spock, what's going on?" I ask cheerlessly as melancholy wells up inside of me.

"I do not know." Spock answers simply, seemingly more aware than he had been before. That being said, the man is still sitting on the floor with a probable concussion and a thick trail of green blood seeping down the left side of his face. He's also still an unsettling shade of white; paler than I ever thought was possible for anyone.

"You don't look so good." I remark worriedly. Spock doesn't manage a response. I move towards him and offer him my arm. "Let's follow McCoy to sickbay. We need to bandage you up." Spock stares at my arm, clearly hesitating before grabbing it and allowing me to support him again. I can tell he doesn't like the physical contact, but he seems to suppress this reaction.

"I do not believe that is physically possible," Spock reasons.

"We need to try," I comment, determined to cling to what little hope I have left.

That hope is Spock.

* * *

So, some people have noticed that this story is similar to that mosquito episode of Star Trek: The Original Series (I can't remember the title) and also similar to an episode from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Well, I've seen both episodes actually. I thought the mosquito episode was awesome, but I actually didn't get the idea for this story from that. I also vaguely remember an episode of the Next Generation where Forgi and the counselor somehow disappeared and got to attend their own funerals, but I was actually too young to remember much else about the episode. With that being said, I guess those episodes inspired this fic, but overall this will be very different due to unexpected twists, a murder plot, and K/S romance!

I will try to post an update sooner rather than later.


	5. Enamored

Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts!

* * *

Chapter 5: Enamored

_Sickbay_

I reach my hand out and desperately try to grab the bandages lying right in front of me on one of the maneuverable trays in Sickbay. Just as I anticipated my hand falls straight through the objects as if they are simply a hallucination. I growl and try again. Once again I fail, and in an effort to release my frustration, I angrily slam my palm onto the table. "Dammit!" For some reason, I can touch some of the larger objects in Sickbay, like the table, and at times I can even make contact with smaller items, but I still haven't found a way to move them or even pick them up.

"Your actions appear futile, Captain. I do not believe the results will change after an eighth attempt." Spock informs me stoically. The Vulcan is sitting on one of the Sickbay beds with his legs dangling off the side. It would appear comical if the man didn't look on the verge of passing out.

"I touched something when I was in the engine room," I announce with frustration. "It was just a screw, but hell, it means that there's a chance I'll be able to pick up one of these tricorders!" I know I can't really blame Spock for not helping, but the least he could do is respect my efforts. I try again, my hand slipping through every object laid out on the table. This is horrible. I have everything I need to help Spock laying right in front of me, but I can't use any of it. I turn back to Spock, my expression uncharacteristically helpless. "We need Bones," I confess. There is a few seconds delay before Spock comprehends my words.

"That does not appear possible at this time," Spock replies slowly, his gaze concentrated on his boots.

"I know, okay! I'm trying." I rebuke. I know I don't look very captainly throwing a fit like this, but to be honest, it's been a rough day. My whole crew thinks I'm dead and if I don't find some way to keep Spock awake, he'll be dead from blood loss in a few hours… maybe less. Spock glances up at me, his gaze nearly sympathetic. My shoulders ease downwards and I feel my muscles relax slightly. "I don't want you to die…" I say. Spock tilts his head sideways, faintly perplexed.

"My condition is not critical. You do not need to concern yourself…"

"I do! I do have to concern myself."

A dead silence settles between us, which is only interrupted by a nurse humming in the neighboring room. I sigh, trying to change the subject. "Do you have any ideas as to what _this_ is?" I ask, gesturing to our surroundings. It takes another three seconds for Spock to manage a reply.

"I would only be speculating…"

"Then speculate."

"The force of the blast combined with the unstable nature of the reactor's contents may have created a portal into an alternate dimension."

I stare at him.

"Wow, you're really speculating…" I remark.

"No such incident has occurred in Starfleet records, thus there is little knowledge of this phenomenon," Spock explains swifter than before. At least he's talking faster now.

"How do you know all that?"

"I find the prospect of other dimensions highly probable and… fascinating." I smile at him. I can't really help it. He's adorable when he's curious about something, which happens quite frequently. I wonder whether curiosity can be considered an emotion. If so, Spock epically fails at hiding it.

"So assuming your theory is correct, which it normally is, is there any way we can transport back, or at least communicate with our own dimension?" Spock's eyebrows lift upward, which is a telltale sign that he has a plan. "You've got an idea," I point out knowingly.

"Telepathic abilities have been rumored for centuries to be able to permeate dimensional barriers," Spock explains. I quickly catch on to what he means.

"Do you think you can meld with someone?" I ask, taking a few steps closer to him.

"To achieve such a connection across dimensions would take a great deal of concentration. I may be able to reach another mind, but in my current state, I would be unable to navigate it, especially without that person's knowledge." He says plainly. _Not to mention, it breaks a couple of stringent Vulcan disciplines about not messing with people's minds without their consent,_ I finish internally. Both of us know that Spock will do whatever is necessary to get us back to our dimension, but it's still a concern at the back of our minds.

"What if the person was asleep? If you didn't have to wade through all their thoughts?" I suggest hopefully.

"Interesting." Somehow I can tell that he's concerned that he didn't think of it. "I am not sure. It could simplify the process."

I smile. At least we have a plan now.

"You need help, and I know one sleeping doctor who would love to see us."

* * *

_Sickbay, Outside Bones' Office_

Spock and I head towards Bones' office, which is where we last saw the good doctor. It's 22:00, so my best bet is that Bones is asleep on his desk again. I casually move towards the door and, expecting it to open, I walk straight into it. "Ow! Dammit!" I curse, as I fall backwards onto the floor with my hand covering my nose. To my surprise, the door does not open for me nor can I walk through it. Spock stands over me, looking down with only the faintest concern. Then his emotions slip entirely as his lips twitch upward into a graceful, subtle smile. "You're smiling at me!" I accuse, pointing a finger up at him. As quick as it had appeared, his smile vanishes as if it had only been an illusion.

"No, I am not." I frown at his obvious lie. "Should I remind you next time that the doors do not recognize your presence?" Spock asks.

"That would be great, Spock. Preferably before I slam my face into them." I counter sarcastically.

I know that Spock is teasing me. I'm not sure why other people always say that the Vulcan doesn't have a sense of humor. It seems that he's making fun of me constantly. Maybe I'm the only one who notices. Well, besides Bones. Our quarrels are nothing in comparison to the always-amusing arguments between Bones and Spock.

I raise my hand towards Spock, silently asking him to help me to my feet. The Vulcan just stares at my outstretched arm uncertainly. I sigh and ungracefully pull myself to my feet. I always forget that Spock doesn't like to be touched. I can't help it. I'm just a touchy feely person and so I just assume that everyone else is just as comfortable with physical contact. _Even if Spock did like me, how could we ever be in a relationship? I can't even touch him._

So now we're stuck here outside Bones' office until someone either enters or exits. I take a deep breath to calm my rampant impatience. I'm not sure Spock will be well enough to initiate a mind meld by the time we finally have a chance to see Bones. Not to mention, Bones has to be asleep in order for us to even have a chance of communicating with him. Unfortunately, we don't really have another choice besides waiting because we can't leave Sickbay without someone else triggering the Sickbay doors. The only reason we got into this room to begin with was because we were following Bones.

I sigh and sink down to the floor. I might as well sit if I'm going to be stuck here for hours. Meanwhile Spock just stands, his absent gaze fixed on the wall in front of him. I suddenly realize that he's listening to something.

"What do you hear?" I ask. Spock glances down at me as if trying to decide whether or not to tell me.

"Dr. McCoy is crying." Spock answers simply.

"Oh." Maybe I didn't want to know that. I turn my gaze back to Spock.

"You know you can sit down if you want." I offer. Spock tries to resist the idea, but ultimately decides that it's better for his concussion if he sits. He settles onto the floor right next to me. We both have our backs to the wall and we are only half an inch apart. It's strange, but I'm not sure I've ever been this close to Spock before. I can only see Spock's profile from my position and my eyes are drawn involuntarily to the pointy tip of his ear. Against all reason, I really want to touch it… or maybe even kiss it. Spock suddenly looks at me out of the corner of his eye and I am forced to hastily turn away.

I suddenly wonder whether the Vulcan can read my thoughts. If so, I'm in deep trouble. I've never really asked him before about Vulcan telepathy. Overall, humans know very little about Vulcans. I always found it strange that humans know so little about our closest ally in the Federation. It's as if all Vulcans have agreed to be secretive around us. Actually before I met Spock, I had never met a Vulcan and plus, I know for a fact that Spock is the only Vulcan to ever enlist in Starfleet.

All I really know about their species is that: they are private and disciplined in not showing their emotions, they are three times stronger than humans (I learned that first-hand), they have better hearing than us, they're peaceful, they can perform mind melds, they don't like to be touched, they have cute pointed ears, they make the best first officers, and their body temperature is really warm and comforting when they're sitting right next to you. I spare another glance in his direction. Maybe this is the perfect time to tell him how I feel.

"Spock?" _Why does my voice sound so strained?_

"Yes?" I fumble for the words, but quickly loose my nerves as Spock's concerned eyes meet mine. I can't risk losing his friendship, especially now since he's the only person I have left.

"Someone lured me into that engine room." I admit suddenly, changing topics entirely. "Someone on this ship tried to off me."

"Off you?" He asks, unsure of my meaning.

"Someone tried to kill me," I clarify.

"Such a scenario appears likely."

"But why? How would the murderer stand to benefit from my death?" Spock takes a moment to consider this. I can somehow see his mind racing to compile a list of all the possible motives and suspects. Maybe I shouldn't be asking him any questions considering the gaping gash on his skull.

"The most probable motive would be to take command of this ship." Spock says. "However, that would make Scotty and myself the top suspects." I laugh.

"I sorta doubt you tried to kill me." I comment with a smile. "And I know Scotty. Scotty's the best engineer in Starfleet and I know he prefers it that way. He wouldn't want to be captain. He's a great friend and that man can't hurt a fly."

"Revenge is a common motive," Spock suggests.

"Now that's one I'm more familiar with!" I exclaim. "I've had people beat me up just for revenge." My shoulders drop a little, my smile faltering. "But I thought everyone on this ship kinda liked me?" Spock raises a skeptical, teasing eyebrow. I frown. "Is that look necessary?"

"I am not sure what 'look' you are referring to." I sigh with frustration.

"I swear you pretend to be this dense just to annoy me."

"I have found it to be a most useful technique." Spock comments, catching me completely off guard. If Spock wasn't… well… Spock, I would seriously punch him in the arm. "Is there anyone with a reason to seek revenge against you?" Spock inquires, resuming our serious conversation.

"Not that I can think of." I desperately rack my brain for any enemies. I've been surprisingly amiable as ship's Captain. "There's that Cupcake guy from security."

"Cupcake guy?"

"Yeah, we got into a bar fight once back in Iowa after I called him cupcake." I explain, remembering that I didn't know Spock back then. "He's also the guy who dragged me and Scotty onto the bridge after we illegally beamed aboard during warp."

"I see."

"I haven't seen him since you beat me up on the bridge," I comment, not realizing this fact until now. I really haven't seen the big guy around anywhere. "He's probably scared of you," I tell Spock honestly.

"Dr. McCoy has already informed me that a majority of the crew is intimidated by me." Spock agrees. "Have you dismissed anyone from duty recently?"

"Um… I signed off the paperwork for the demotion of science officer Daley, but I believe that is more your doing than mine."

"The officer used the lab irresponsibly and for authentic culinary pursuits that do not pertain to science." I roll my eyes at my serious friend.

"So the man tried to bake brownies. Sure, it wasn't a bright idea, but hey, they tasted really good." Spock's dark eyes narrow slightly.

"You ate them?"

"Well, of course I did. The man has talent. It's not his fault that there's no kitchen on board." I defend. "Maybe I should formally request one the next time we arrive at a Star Base for maintenance." Spock simply ignores this statement and continues his string of inquiries. I notice that he hesitates before asking the next question.

"Are you currently engaged in an intimate relationship with any member of this crew?" I really _really_ have to fight to keep a blush from rising up my neck and to my cheeks. I should've figured he'd ask… but what do I say? Should I tell him? So, instead of facing the question, I do what I do best, buy time.

"Is that your way of asking if I'm single or not?"

"Yes," Spock answers quickly. Well, that did not buy me as much time as I had hoped. At least his reaction time is up. "Personal relationships offer the potential for disagreements that can possibly lead to passionate acts of violence." Spock explains in an effort to justify prying into my private life. I'm not convinced, but I resign to answer him anyways.

"Um… no, I'm not involved with anyone and I haven't been since I became Captain of this ship." I confess. Sure, there have been rumors of me dating yeomen or various ensigns, but to be honest, they're all false. Sure, I have a tendency to flirt with some of the girls onboard my ship (mostly Uhura), but it's all harmless and only because I'm not sure how else to act around them. Then again, I sort of flirt with Spock on a regular basis too; although, I try to keep that more subtle. That being said, I think Bones has started to notice.

"Are you currently enamored with any member of this crew?" Now I'm really starting to suspect that Spock has an ulterior motive for these questions.

"I don't think that's relevant."

"We may be able to expel the motive of jealousy if you can confirm you have not expressed an intimate interest in anyone," Spock explains emotionlessly.

"I-" _I am completely enamored with you? I really desire to be in a romantic relationship with you? I think you're perfect in every way? _Of course, none of these answers have a chance to fight their way to the surface. "I don't think jealousy is the motive."

"You are evading my question." _Damn, why is Spock suddenly so persistent? _I sigh in defeat and anxiously run my hand along the back of my neck.

"I… like someone, but I haven't really made it obvious." Spock raises an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"Okay, now you're just blatantly prying," I accuse, smiling.

"I am merely attempting to narrow our list of suspects."

"Suuuurrrre you are." I comment sarcastically. I then roll my eyes if only to disguise the fact that inside my chest my heart is racing.

To my relief, I hear a sudden pattering of footsteps headed in our direction.

"A nurse is coming," Spock informs me. I rise to my feet and glance over at the pale Vulcan.

"Are you sure you can do this, Spock?"

He doesn't have a chance to answer as we hurriedly follow the nurse into Bones' office before the doors shut on us.

* * *

Can y'all please review?

I'm not sure how many people are genuinely following this story. Normally I have a surplus of chapters already written when I post a story, but this time I'm writing as I go, so when I only get three reviews on a chapter it sort of deters me from writing. I was tempted to discontinue this, but thankfully my muse returned.

I really like the plot of this story and I would like to know if you guys do too.


	6. Splintering Headaches

You've convinced me. :)

Thanks to everyone who has expressed an interest in this story. I will not let you down!

I was so overjoyed after reading all the reviews that it jump-started my muse. So here's an early update.

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Chapter 6: Splintering Headaches

_Doctor McCoy's Office in Sickbay_

We hurriedly follow the nurse into Bones' office before the doors shut on us. The nurse merely drops off a file on the doctor's desk before quietly slipping out of the room. Meanwhile, Dr. McCoy is sound asleep with his head resting on his folded arms.

I see grief flash in Jim's bright blue eyes as they fixate on the doctor's tear-stained cheeks. I have discovered that Jim has an innately strong will, one that allows him to be more resistant to his human emotions. As a Vulcan, I consider this one of Jim's most admirable traits. While I provide the Captain with logical reasoning, I have found that Doctor McCoy can provide a completely different perspective based on human compassion. I may not agree with the doctor on many decisions (actually, I have never agreed with Dr. McCoy unless it regards the Captain's health or safety), but I have found that his points do have merit. The Captain, however, has the ability to process both our suggestions and make an informed decision on both the logical and the human level. This makes him a far better Captain than I could ever be.

Jim silently gestures for me to initiate the mind meld. I am tempted to inform him that he can speak aloud because Dr. McCoy cannot hear us, but then I decide not to. I have found that pretending can help humans cope with their emotion turmoil.

I move around the desk until I am hovering behind the doctor. I hesitate before carefully placing my fingers on the meld points. My hands, however, slip through him as if through air. I glance over at Jim to find worry brimming in his blue eyes. I lift my hands and try to place them exactly where they should be if McCoy's body were a solid in this dimension. I then close my eyes and forget my surroundings while maintaining meditative breathing. I attempt to harness all my energy and thought into diligently building and shaping a connection with the doctor.

At first, I sense that our plan has floundered as I fail to grasp any mental pathways, but then suddenly, I can feel the distant distinction of thought brushing gently against my mind. It is a different feeling than any of my previous mind melds, but at least it is working.

I can hear thoughts, but they are barely above whispers and are overwhelmed by various conflicting emotions. I sense the blurred tints of memories and the random split-second neural reactions that produce dreams. Now all I have to do is focus on the distant thoughts until I have the ability to move with them and follow the chains of reactions that characterize McCoy's sleep-induced mind.

It takes a great deal of sorting and many dead ends for me to finally master the inner-workings of McCoy's mind (this is not surprising considering that the doctor and I are polar opposites in almost every respect). I begin to find my way through his subconscious and into his current dreams. I then carefully interrupt the neural pathway in charge of processing his new memories and use my own mind to fill in the gaps.

Then, using my own mind I create a familiar room and reinstate an image of myself from which I can operate. McCoy's mind then supplements the same, now working in accordance with mine.

Suddenly the doctor is standing right in front of me with a grim expression.

"Dr. McCoy," I greet. McCoy's eyebrows furrow into an angry frown, one I know all too well.

"Dammit, Spock! I can't even mourn in peace without you haunting my dreams!" He exclaims angrily. I attempt to reply, but my mind is drawn away by the suddenness of Jim's voice.

"Is it working?" Jim's voice sounds closer than it should.

"Yes," I reply.

"You see him?"

"Yes."

"This is unfair. I want to see him!" I can imagine a pout stretching across Jim's face. Then, 2.3 seconds later, that exact pout appears right in front of me. I stare perplexed at the figure of Jim.

"How did you-?" Jim looks around, just as surprised as I am. He then stares at me, looking guilty.

"I just touched your hand and then… here I am." He explains sheepishly. I can feel a flush steadily creeping up my cheeks.

"You… are touching my hand?" I ask, trying to maintain my composure at the thought of Jim's hand caressing mine. After all, Jim is probably unaware of the significance of such a gesture. "The mind meld must blur the lines between our two dimensions to such an extent that you are capable of moving through mental barriers." I purposefully neglect to tell Jim that this phenomenon could only be possible if Jim's mind is considerably compatible with mine. The line can only blur like this if his mind can follow the same mental pathways that I created. Jim lifts his eyebrows.

"Cool." He remarks simply, looking around the room I formed.

"Sickbay?" He asks curiously, clearly not anticipating that the inside of McCoy's mind would look like the Enterprise.

"I thought it would be more suitable than the empty void of deep sleep," I explain.

"Yeah, I guess-" Jim stops mid-sentence as his gaze settles on Dr. McCoy, who is staring at Jim with disbelief. "Bones." Jim says softly. "Bones!" Then without warning, Jim rushes toward the doctor and wraps his arms around him in a strong embrace. For a moment I think he may never let go.

"Jim?" The doctor manages to ask, his eyes wide. "My mind hates me," he mutters, misery seeping into his every word. His head sinks into Jim's shoulder.

"I've missed you, Bones! Sure, it's only been a few hours, but hell, I thought I'd never see you again!" Jim exclaims, pulling away so he can look McCoy in the eyes. "Well, that _you_ would never see me again." He corrects. Dr. McCoy does not seem pleased. Instead, grief glistens in his brown eyes as they dart from Jim to me in a panicked manner.

"You two are dead." He states solemnly. "You both died in the explosion."

"No, we didn't. That's why we're here!" Jim explains, shaking the doctor slightly.

"I'm dreaming," Bones says quietly. Jim hesitates and tilts his head back and forth.

"Well… yes and no." Jim explains. "Bones… we're alive. We're just trapped in another dimension." McCoy laughs bitterly.

"Just another dimension, huh?" He stares at Jim like he's an apparition. "I must be going nuts. I always knew you'd be the cause of my permanent insanity." His gaze drifts towards me. "You and that hobgoblin."

"The Captain is telling the truth. We are not dead. We are able to see you, but you cannot see us." As soon as the final word escapes my lips, I immediately regret speaking. A spasm jolts through my temple and incites a splintering headache.

"_This _is the only way we can reach you." Jim continues hopefully. We must convince Dr. McCoy that we are alive.

"_This?_" McCoy questions.

"A mind meld." The doctor stares at Jim as grief begins to reappear in the depth of his eyes.

"Please stop this. I beg you, Jim." Jim gives McCoy a pleading look before glancing uncertainly at me. Then, out of desperation, Jim grabs McCoy's hand and places it on his chest.

"Feel this." Jim orders hastily. "I have a heartbeat. How can I be dead if I have a heartbeat?" McCoy struggles with a reply.

"Because… because this is just a dream and my subconscious hates me."

"Please, Bones. You have to believe me. This is real!" Jim begs, shaking the man's shoulders impatiently. "They couldn't find our bodies, Bones! That's because we're not dead. You just can't see us." The doctor stares, paralyzed by the plea in Jim's eyes. I too find myself paralyzed, but for a different reason entirely. I am suddenly becoming more and more tired with every passing moment and my headache refuses to cease.

"Okay… it's nonsense, but okay… let's say I believe it… that you two are alive, but have somehow been transported into another dimension." McCoy says uncertainly. "What can I do about it?" Jim smiles optimistically.

"We're alive, but… we're injured…" Jim glances back at me. "Spock's hurt pretty bad."

"And how do you suppose I should go about healing ghosts?" McCoy grunts with his usual charm.

"Just tell us what to do," Jim reasons.

"You would need medicine, bandages…"

"We can touch things in the engine room… maybe… maybe if you bring the supplies there the radiation will allow us to use them." I lift an eyebrow, impressed and intrigued by Jim's sudden flash of brilliance.

"That's a bit far-fetched," McCoy comments.

"This whole situation is far-fetched! Examine us here, explain what we can do to tend to our injuries, and when you awake, go to the engine room and leave out the supplies we need." The doctor still does not seem convinced. "You're our only chance, Bones." Dr. McCoy's gaze strays towards me.

"Come here." I pause a moment as my scattered mind tries to piece together the meaning of those two words. I can see Jim's countenance begin to reveal concern.

"Jim requires-"

"You first," McCoy orders impatiently. "You've been unusually quiet, which normally means you're focusing on controlling an emotion. I'm going to take a leap here and assume you're in pain." I want to answer, but decide that it is less painful to just accept the doctor's order. I slowly move towards him, not entirely aware of my own actions. My sense of self and control is beginning to slip like water through my fingertips. I sit down on one of the Sickbay beds, but as soon as I get there I notice that I can't recall the walk over to it.

Meanwhile, Jim and McCoy surround me, both appraising me with examining looks. Suddenly a tricorder appears our of thin air, most likely a result of McCoy's mental insistence.

"Convenient." He comments, impressed by his control over this dream-like vision. He begins to scan me. I can feel my eyelids longing to flutter close.

"What should I tell Scotty? That you two came to me in a dream?" McCoy asks, still unsure of what Jim has told him.

"I don't know yet." Jim confesses. "All I know is that it won't matter if we don't find a way to heal ourselves." McCoy examines the readings on his tricorder and turns his gaze back to me.

"You took quite a beating, but most of your injuries are relatively minor. Your head worries me though."

"Is he going to be okay?" Jim sounds concerned. I suddenly realize that my eyes have drifted closed. I have to use all my will power to pry them open again. Now, McCoy mirrors Jim's concerned expression.

"I could fix this, Jim." McCoy admits solemnly.

"Just show me what to do." Jim states confidently. I begin to see black dots at the periphery of my vision and my breathing begins to slow. McCoy looks up at the ceiling as the lights begin to weaken.

"Jim… the lights are dimming." McCoy points out. Jim immediately turns to me.

"Spock?" I feel a firm hand grasp my shoulder. A strange emotion begins to circulate through my veins as my vision begins to fade and my eyelids begin to droop. I feel… guilty. I feel as if I have failed my Captain.

"My apologies… I am finding it… hard to maintain…" My eyes close by their own will. My guilt begins to morph into an emotion akin to terror. I am being engulfed by my greatest fear; I am loosing control over my mind and emotions. Thankfully, unconsciousness is mere seconds away. I can faintly hear Jim's voice calling my name.

"Spock."

"You're fading." McCoy says.

"Spock!" I am forced to let go of my mind as I feel myself collapse into a pair of strong arms.

* * *

Reviews (of any length) are rays of sunshine in the midst of finals.


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